Our World
by Redemmo
Summary: What the world of pokémon could be like if it were real. Based on the games, and with considerable poetic license. Ranges over the Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh regions.
1. The Indigo Conference

This is a series of short stories about what I think a 'realistic' pokemon world would be like. Therefore, each 'chapter' is mostly independent of the previous one.

Disclaimer: Surprise! I don't own pokémon. Consider this effective for this entire story.

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The Indigo Plateau's reception gate was stuffed to capacity, the ten tellers often having to lean over the long counter that separated the back third of the room from the front in order to hear their current client over the rabble of nervous, worried, and overall excited pokémon trainers and spectators. No matter if you were here for intense battles or just an intense atmosphere, the Indigo Conference, held only once every five years, was not an event to be missed.

Like sand through an hourglass, the crowd moved forward one at a time to be processed, then admitted through the metal detectors that separated one teller from the next. As Tohjo – the combined regions of Kanto and Johto – only really required that singular security check in addition to a minimal ID check, the lines moved along quite quickly. The fastest line, of course, was the first teller's queue of pre-registered trainers, due mainly to the fact that it had never been that large in the first place. This was in stark contrast to the pace of the last five teller's gargantuan lines of spectators redeeming their Internet receipts – the only case where ID checks were taken seriously. Fraud concerning the coveted – and expensive – Indigo tickets was common.

A cheer went up from the processed side of the vast room, where a sizeable crowd had already gathered. The wall of windows that curved around the right and back sides of the building had revealed the telltale glint of April sun on the polished chrome of the Indigo Plateau monorail service.

Theoretically, such a reaction was not warranted, as the shuttles came in regular 15-minute intervals during tournaments. However, such a theory would completely disregard the famous fierce devotion and energy that Tohjians dedicated to their near-sacred pokémon league.

The shuttle came to a stop with a low hiss, and the security guarding the booths to the train braced in preparation for the chaos of attempting to force single-line entrance onto the shuttle. The crowd surged – straight into a towering figure that was roaring, "Hold it! I'm coming off!"

A ripple effect passed over the entire reception gate as those nearest the figure fell silent, followed by those who heard the silence turned to find the source of it. Clomping out of the shuttle was none other than the Indigo Plateau's Elite Third. Bruno: The Fighting Master.

Standing over six feet tall, Bruno had come wearing only his ragged karate pants, the recently washed white stark against his tanned skin and the black belt around his waist – the testament to his personal fighting prowess. The absence of the karate jacket he occasionally wore allowed an awe-inspiring view of his chiseled abdomen, wide shoulders, and thickly muscled arms. Toughened feet were also left bare, rumors claiming the reason to be everything from getting fed up of special ordering shoes that fit to some sort of secret, special training aimed at toughening up. Choppy black hair was partially held back by a short ponytail and grey eyes raked over those gathered as they gawped back at him.

"How many of you are challengers?" he yelled, those in front of him blanching back even as they nervously raised their hands. Bruno grunted at the feeble response. "Only _ten_ of you will get to challenge the Elite. _There are two other Elites before me so toughen up if you want to see me in action!_" The crowd cringed again, nodding frantically. Pleased by their response, the master announced, "Me and my boys are heading out to warm-up. I'll see you at the Plateau!"

The throng parted as the elite walked forward, his six custom brown-red pokéballs flashing their steel decorations from where they sat on his belt, the glare hiding Bruno's pokémon – his 'boys' – from view. The fighter's target was the center-back of the room - dominated by two huge glass doors. Upon a hastily hastily entered computer command from one of the tellers, the doors began to slowly swing outwards, and a cool breeze cut through the room, fresh from the small mountain that housed Victory Road.

Breaking into a jog, Bruno tossed a pokéball out ahead of him with the call, "Let's go, Chan!" The ball burst open to release a mass of pink light before rebounding back into the elite's hand, the light coalescing into a hitmonchan.

Chan hopped up and down a few times, the leather straps of his tunic's skirt bouncing as he sent out a few practice punches. His highly trained brown body rippled with the movement before, with a short wave to the onlookers, he took off with his trainer towards the imposing Victory Road.

As they disappeared into the caves that housed some of Tohjo's most powerful wild pokémon, the reception gate phased back to normal activity. Spectators and trainers alike strained for any last glimpse of the legendary fighting master, chatting excitedly amongst themselves and touching their own pokéballs to check the readiness of those within.

The Indigo Conference was about to begin.

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Please feel free to be critical of my writing skills - I am planning a 'real' pokémon fanfiction (which will be set in the world outlined by this story) and would like to work out the kinks in my writing before I start posting it.

Thanks!


	2. Hoenn

I'm going to stick my notes for this story on my author's page.

And sorry for the gargantuan time lapse between uploads - I really have no excuse.

Steven's character is inspired by purple-drake's Keeping My Sanity: Mirrorscape.

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**Hoenn**

With a disarmingly soothing call, the milotic arched his neck and released a Water Gun that swept the opposing delcatty's feet out from underneath her. Contesta, sitting with the other four judges on their podium, raised her hand to call the double battle to an end. The delcatty was still able to battle, but contest rules only required a demonstration of skill, not a victory.

The crowd murmured as the judges conferred amongst themselves. The skill and beauty shown by all of the pokémon participants had been stunning, but nothing less was to be expected. This was, after all, the final round of the world-renowned Hoenn Grand Festival.

Surrounded on all sides by the audience was the wooden stage and the contestants, waiting tensely for the decision that had been three days in coming. Some of the coordinators wore the five ribbons required to participate in the Festival. Others were classy enough to avoid such a blatant display of their past success, or they simply had too many ribbons to display.

Finally, Vivian started announcing the contest's winners. The audience applauded robustly for the third- and second-place winners, fully appreciative of the neck-to-neck competition that had defined this Festival. The winners themselves accepted their awards with more than a few tears in their eyes even as they smiled back at the encircling stands. Then came time for the final announcement. A tense moment passed, then Vivian's enthusiastic voice rang out again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the first-place finisher and winner of the Ribbon Cup in this 53rd Hoenn Grand Festival is, with 215 points, _Wallace Boudreaux_!"

Cheers and applause filled the room as the milotic's trainer, ever the gentleman, took off his soft violet hat and bowed to both the judges and to his fellow competitors. Then, with a signal to his pokémon, Wallace lifted the edge of his matching cape and executed a graceful twirl in the midst of a Water Sport, his aqua hair glistening as the applause reached a crescendo.

Hours later, Wallace stepped off the ferry to Sotopolis and onto a wharf surrounded by rising concentric circles of near-identical white buildings. His house was on the eighth level of the city – highly coveted real estate due to the view of the gigantic volcano's lake. A view that Wallace took a moment to enjoy after having parked his light blue car in the driveway.

The competition had been exceedingly difficult at this year's Grand Festival, and a special reward for his prizewinning pokémon was in order. Shutting down the gym for a few days went without question after the rigorous training required for the contest, as were long hours spent grooming and playing with his pokémon. A spa would be a nice treat for himself, and would likely be combined with a night or two of dining out at one of Sotopolis' finest restaurants. Perhaps he could even…open a door that was already unlocked.

Frowning slightly as he retried his unnecessary key, Wallace looked over the front of his house. There were no signs of vandalism or forced entry, but he never forgot to lock the door. There were, however, a (very) few people who had their own keys.

Wallace opened the door to the scent of lasagna, probably the frozen one he'd bought against the rare day he wasn't interested in cooking dinner. The kitchen was still a few rooms away, but the slightly stylish black shoes placed off the entrance hall's ornate rug told the gym leader enough even before he heard his visitor.

"I was about to leave you a note and come back in the morning," Steven said, stepping into sight. He was wearing his usual black suit, the purple zigzags down his jacket and metal armbands adding nice touch of character. His light grey hair, however, was in its usual unruly state.

"My apologies. I would have been home sooner, but one cannot refuse advice to young coordinators and trainers," Wallace replied easily. Steven nodded; as Champion, he was often approached by young trainers for advice as well.

"I didn't really expect you to rush home. I just happened to be diving in the area and thought I'd see how you did in the Festival."

Slipping off his shoes and cape, Wallace said, "This was my best Festival yet. The crowd was very enthusiastic, and all of the competitors were at the top of their game. Nevertheless, I have managed to bring home _this_." The gym leader swept his hand out from behind the cape, revealing a gold statuette shaped like a ribbon. The Ribbon Cup, of course, was on display at the contest hall and would soon receive a new plaque attached to it with Wallace's name and year of victory engraved on it.

Smiling, Wallace gestured to the sofas and chairs in the front room. "Please, have a seat."

Smiling, Steven slid into a cushioned chair, Wallace settling into the sofa across from him. "Congratulations - that's your third Cup win! Are you going to aim for the five-win streak?"

"Admittedly, Juan set the bar very high with that record. However, as his student, aiming to match – or better – his score is the least I can do." A smile touched Wallace's face at the thought of that challenge. "What about you? Will you aim to hold on to the Championship this year?"

Steven nodded. "I've already told the embassy that I'm off for the next three months. Granite's not in the best shape since he's only been getting basic food at the diplomatic meetings, but Meteor Falls' rocks are high in iron so his armour will toughen quickly. It's going to be close, but we'll be back in shape in time."

Resting his head in one hand, Wallace closed his eyes slightly. He could never decide whether to pressure Steven to drop a few 'hobbies' or just admire him for what he could achieve. As the adopted son of Mr. Stone, Steven often helped test out Stone Corporation's newest products as well as occasionally providing extra security. As Hoenn's Champion, he was an excellent pokémon trainer. In fact, Wallace took pride in having defeated Steven the first time the other had competed in the tournament, although he didn't regret not trying to hold onto the championship. Life as Sotopolis' Gym Leader and as one of the best coordinators on the contest circuit was enough for him.

Between the bi-annual EverGrande Conferences, Steven was dedicated to his other employment as a diplomat. His most common assignment was to the Kanto and Johto regions, as the battling enthusiasts there respected him for his champion title. Steven also enjoyed the traveling he did as a diplomat because it let him pursue his hobby of collecting rare rocks from around the world. In fact, Steven was the only person Wallace knew who named their pokémon after different types of rocks.

A moment later, Wallace's tired mind remembered the date of this year's Conference. "Steven, The EverGrande Conference is in _six_ weeks and lasts for _two_ …"

"And the last month is for my Elite challenge," Steven said easily. At Wallace's surprised look, he elaborated. "I think Kanto and Johto have finally rubbed off on me. In their Indigo Conference, after the basic tournament, the top ten go up against the Elite for a shot at the championship. So, I decided that if I won the championship this time around, I'd take a leaf out of their book and go for the Elite challenge."

"Don't tell me you're training for the Tohjo championship," Wallace nearly groaned.

Steven smiled placidly. "No – I like Hoenn too much for that."

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Digital brownies for everyone who can figure out which of Steven's pokémon is named Granite!

As always, please point out anything I can improve in my writing! I think the ending was a bit weak. Any comments?


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